Sing Fair Raven, Nevermore
by Schingiuire Vristalica
Summary: Near the end of his human life, Dracula summons a demon to make him much more than human. However the price he paid may be his undoing.  First in the Leashed Trilogy.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Hellsing or Dracula.

Age. It was the one enemy no man, prince or beggar, could defeat. Age robbed man of his strength, his power, and his mind. As cleaver kings aged, their people would begin to seek out younger leaders. As tactical generals age, their soldiers begin to wonder if their minds are really up for the task of leading them into battle.

Some do not believe age to be such an enemy. To be aged meant one was wise to the ways of men, and cleaver enough to live long and become aged. It was a terrible, unfair deal for man. For this wisdom, age took life and energy as its price. Man does not have a choice if they wish to make this deal, unless man wished to be old and foolish and dead before their time.

Death. It is the ultimate price, the ultimate foe of man. Man may use sorcery to cheat age, but death could not be escaped. Death rode faster on his pale horse than man could run. All men bowed to death, unless a Deal with immortals could be made. Dracula bowed to none, feared none. He would not be defeated by age, and he had found a way to escape it.

The dark prince stood at his window, looking out over the hill-blocked view of the horizon. Wrinkled, skeletal fingers brushed over a map laid out across a table for him. It detailed the movements of an invading army, one that was moving much faster than he had anticipated. It had wiped out every village and camp, farm and settlement that it's path crossed.

"They've moved into the lands then?" Dracula's dark voice penetrated the stillness of the room. Several candles burned, but did not completely chase away the pressure in the air, the pressure of the darkness.

"Yes, Prince." The guard stood at attention, his armor glinting slightly in the candle light. Even he could feel the tension, the heat and stillness before battle. The night promised something wicked and dark before the sun would rise again.

"Leave me. Ready the army."

"But…Prince, they are thousands. There is but a few hundred of us left."

Dracula whirled from his place at the window, sword instantly in his hand. Even in his old age, he was an intimidating figure. Dressed in imposing armor, red cape swirling around him, and graying locks of dark hair falling well past his shoulders in soft waves, framing a pair of gleaming green eyes that sparkled with anger. The soldier's face fell as he found himself looking down the glinting blade of his leader.

"Did I not just give you an order? Are you questioning me?" The Prince's dark eyes narrowed in anger, a sneer across his lips. They all doubted him, he knew. They called him mad, believed him insane with his defeat and hatred. They thought him weak from age.

"N..No, my Prince!" The guard backed up, raising his hands slightly. "I'll gather our men at once!" He backed from the room, bowing low as he exited.

Dracula sheathed his sword, striding forward to shut and bar the door behind his guard. Once the bolt was secure, he turned to make his way back to the window. The hills blocked his view, but he knew they were there, they were coming. Soon, they would top the hill, rage through the village, and attack his stronghold. The Turks had finally cornered him, but he would not go without a fight. There were at least a hundred prisoners in the dungeons, if not more. A small forest of impaled bodies may hinder the attack, stall it from shock, but not stop the invasion completely.

"_You are worried?_"

Dracula turned quickly at the sound behind him, a hand upon his sword as the temperature of the air dropped several degrees. Before him stood a child, no more than four or five. This had happened several times in the past few days. Once he was alone, the child would come to him, bringing promises and spurring his hopes. His eyes narrowed at the child, roving over the soft golden curls, over the tattered clothing. He had still not been able to determine the gender of the creature.

"You've lied to me," Dracula stated, tightening his grip upon the sword. "They still come. My enemies still live, and they are coming here to kill me. They wish to steal what little life I have left."

"_Ahh. Perhaps a better phrasing would have been acceptable?_"

Dracula turned his back upon the child, ignoring its sinister voice. He exchanged the sight for the scene outside his window.

"I only have a few years left. Already my muscles ache, and I find I am not as strong as I once was."

The sun was setting, painting the sky with bright pinks and purples. Sunset had always been his favorite time. With the night came peace, and ease of mind. It was also the best time of attack, when the enemy was asleep or drunk upon their liquor. The mists that rose from the ground at night offered perfect cover.

"_You want your strength back, yes?_" The child asked.

Dracula tensed when he felt the thing grip his cape, tugging at it as if the child wanted him to pick it up. Even if it were a true child, he would push it to the side. Such gentleness was not in his nature. It was beginning again. The same offers every night. Offers of power, life eternal, and strength.

"Yes. I do. Not only strength. I want a life that will never end. I want my youth returned," Dracula whispered, closing his eyes. He could not bear the thought of this being his last sunset.

"_What would you give?_"

The Prince turned to the child, flinching and fighting the urge to back up a step when he found himself inches from his own face. It was mocking him. The thing was mocking him with his own haggard form. Never had it shifted form like this before.

"What would you ask? We have danced around this for days, Creature. I have naught but a few hours, and you wish to play games with me! Tell me what you want!"

Dracula drew his sword, lashing out at the thing that had taken his form. It mocked him, grinning and holding out its frail hands as the sword tore through its form like ones hand through smoke or shadow.

"_Your obedience._"

He had not been prepared for this, and backed up, dropping his sword as he hissed, gripping at a sudden pain in his chest. It was a pain that had been bothering him for months, another sign of his life's end. How could this creature ask such a powerful thing from him? Dracula bowed to no one! Though, if he did not agree, he would not live long enough to brag.

"Very well," the Prince growled, straightening and staring into his own cat green eyes. "I'd agree to your terms, Creature. With my own as well."

The mock form tilted its head to the side, a maddening grin never faltering.

"_Oh? And what would these be, Tsepesh? Voievod. What else could you want when I already offer you such a generous gift?"_

Dracula ignored this comment, clenching his fists.

"I want to destroy the sultan. And I want to kill my brother with my own hands. You will not deny me this."

Vengeance was a powerful force. It, along side with sorrow and hatred at his aging and uselessness. Already his men thought him crazy, and there were murmurs among them that he was not strong enough to lead them anymore. Soon they would turn upon him, most likely tonight. Several of the men had already turned against him. Charging out to face the Turks was suicide. And not only this; there were spies among his ranks.

"_Ahh. Granted. Your obedience will grant you this, with everlasting life."_

Obedience. This creature was demanding he relinquish his freedom. It was an undertone, a reading between the lines. Demanding obedience was nothing more than demanding a slave.

"Why? Why have you chosen me?"

The false Dracula laughed, backing up a step and sweeping a hand before his face. Instantly the features reversed in time, aging backwards until he was young again, dark eyes bright with life, and hair deep ebony. Dracula gasped, gritting his teeth at yet another mockery.

"_Chosen you? But Voievod, I did not choose you, you have chosen me. Your anger and hatred so great, I could not help but tilt my ear to your call. I offer you a chance to get what you want, and you will help me get what I want. Such a simple offer, I cannot see why you doubt me. You fear losing your strength? I can make you so strong, you will tear through the armies of your enemies as if those men were made of nothing but smoke and ash."_

Dracula fought to keep from stepping back as the young mockery reached out, running the tips of its fingers over his face. The flesh was so cold, it seemed to suck the very heat from his body like the deep winter chill. He found himself shaking, though not so much from the chill, but the sudden knowledge, the sudden understanding of how much power this being actually possessed.

"_You despise the ache of your bones? I can cure this, and make it so pain is nothing to you. You wish to defeat age? I will make you immortal. And what is this?"_

The creature lashed out, gripping Dracula's jaw, causing him to cry out, and forcing his head back, shoving him against the wall.

"_You detest humanity? How quaint. When I am finished, humanity will be your prey. Is my offer not good enough for you Prince?"_

Dracula kept his eyes open, though narrowed darkly at the being. This was a position he had placed many into, and he did not enjoy the switch. The creature's offer continued to thrum through his mind. Would it truly be so easy? With such power as was being offered, he could easily escape this creature. Obedience would only be mandatory for a short time. He knew he could worm his way out of almost any situation. Such was his gift.

"What are the terms? Every offer has a bad side. I wish to know that I will be giving up for this power," he answered, finally gaining his wits and shoving his younger self from him.

The creature chuckled, now taking on the Prince's own voice. Dracula watched his ageless image elegantly turn from him, sweeping an arm toward the window.

"_Sunlight will be barred from you. Maybe forever, maybe not. The metal that bought Jesus' life will be poison to you. God is your enemy, fear Him."_

This did not seem so difficult. Hardly a price at all. God had turned his back on him years ago.

A loud banging at the door stole Dracula from his thoughts, and he blinked to find the room empty. He growled, moving to snatch his sword from where it had landed upon the floor, and strode to the door. Throwing the bolt back and shoving the door open, he narrowed his eyes at his guard.

"You have interrupted something very important. For your life, this had better be worth disturbing me," he hissed.

The guard paled, but made a quick, jumpy gesture at the empty hallway behind him.

"It's your brother. He has come demanding your presence. I know you wished to stay undisturbed, but I felt this important enough…" The guard trailed off at the grin that had spread across his leader's face.

"Ahh! Radu the Handsome! I told him what would happen the last time he would come here…" Dracula turned to the guard, his eyes narrowing again.

"You must think me for a fool. Treachery and lies are things I will not tolerate!" His voice was a low hiss, but the emotion and fierceness behind each word carried as if he had screamed them to the heavens. The guard had no chance to defend himself as Dracula's sword flew in his hand, slashing over the unprotected flesh of his throat.

He did not even have a chance to call out a warning. Their plot had been discovered, or perhaps Dracula had known all along. Mesmerized by the life seeping from the guard's neck, Vlad found himself hesitating a moment, then smiling and stepping over the bloodied mess to the hallway.

Yes, he had known of this plot for days. The creature had told him of it. At first he had not believed it, but events soon told the truth, especially now. It had told him his own troops had been infiltrated by spies, and that on this night, his brother would seek to speak to him. They would get him alone in a room, cut off from his allies, and slaughter him.

What fools they were, to think he could be outsmarted. Dracula grinned to himself, moving through the hallways in slow stride. These were the final moments. The air was thicker in this level of the castle. The halls deserted, speaking of the coming terror of the invading Turkish army.

He stopped at the chapel, lowering his head and frowning. It was a habit of his, to pray before battle. Even after God had betrayed him, it was done just for looks to the others. The creature had said God was his enemy. God had turned His back on him years ago. Why was he to continue following a being that had no care for him? Dracula turned, feeling as if he had reached a final point of no return. This was indeed the end. He continued through the hall, finally reaching the main hall.

Pushing the doors open, Dracula smiled to see his brother, surrounded by several Turkish guards. Radu was several years younger than he, and had thus retained much of his beauty and strength. Again life was mocking him, mocking his frailty as a human. Frailty that would not last much longer.

"Brother!" Radu smiled, coming toward him. Dracula allowed himself to be embraced, and hugged his brother back, stepping back from him with a smile.

"You've ridden ahead of your army? I suppose to offer me a final chance at surrender?"

The look in his brother's eyes told all, and the Prince shook his head, frowning.

"I will not. You should have known this before coming. Now you have wasted a trip. I told you the last time I let you go, that I would kill you the next time we meet. And now you test my patience."

"Brother, you are a fool to continue this! You will be killed, regardless of your threats against me. We both know this; I can see your strain. Why not end it now? Surrender."

"Radu, do you take me for such a fool? I will not surrender. I know not the meaning of such a word!"

Radu sighed, backing up from his brother and shaking a head. Vlad had always been stubborn. Perhaps it was why he was so successful, but his luck was running out, and fast. Age was taking a toll on him, and his mind was probably failing as well.

"Then I have no choice but to force you. I will not let you pay the price of your men's lives for your foolishness."

Each guessing the other's move, both brothers drew their swords, facing each other down. The guards around them seemed to multiply to Dracula's eyes. They came from the shadows where he could not perceive them earlier. There must have been at least twenty or more. They formed a circle around the brothers, drawing their weapons. There would be no escape from this situation.

Dracula laughed, lunging for Radu. Their swords clashed again and again. Both dancing around each other like lions protecting pride territory. A move, taught to them by their father, cost him his life. It was a fake. Radu moved to swing at his legs. When Vlad lowered his sword to parry the blow, Radu arched his motion upward in an instant, slashing across his brother's chest and throwing his backward him backwards with the blow.

The Prince cried out as the metal cut through his armor, but his cry was silenced when Radu lunged forward to bury his blade deep into Dracula's chest. Blood gathered in his mouth, lining his lips and dripping from his chin. The moment had come, now was the time to make his choice. A dull clatter reached his ears, his sword slipping from his grasp.

"Forgive me, Brother," Radu whispered, but the look in his eyes was of malice and hatred. The words were hollow, reflecting nothing.

"May Lucifer claim your soul," he growled lower, kicking his brother from his sword. More truth to the words than he knew.

This time Dracula did not cry out, only grunting as he hit the floor. He could feel his blood, his warmth, leaking from his chest. Even the forms of his brother and the guards above him were fading.

"I accept. You have my obedience," Dracula whispered, closing his eyes.

Radu laughed as he watched the life leave his brother.

"Fool, now is a good time to accept surrender! As if it would have done you any good to begin with!"

Spitting upon the corpse, he gestured to his men for the doorway.

"Let us claim this land in the name of the Sultan!"

Their cheers drowned out the whispered voice of a small child huddling in the shadows, unseen by all.

"_I will await you the next sunset, Voievod."_


	2. Chapter 2

"_Wake sweet Prince."_

Dracula groaned, feeling as if he were floating in a mist of confusion. There was an empty feeling within him. It felt as if he had been gutted like a deer. There was something odd. Dracula opened his mouth, gasping for breath when he suddenly realized he was not breathing. He felt terribly cold, and very hungry.

Continuing to gasp, as if he could not get his breath, Vlad rolled to his back, reaching out into the mist, hoping to grasp something tangible. Something he could pull himself up with. If he could only get to his feet, clear his head, things would make sense.

"_Poor Voievod."_

Dracula tensed when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him. They pulled him from the floating mist into a reality he could not yet understand. He couldn't feel himself, as if this wasn't his body, and the empty feeling was tugging at him. Gasping, Dracula opened his eyes wide, gazing up at a heavily blurred shadow.

"_You are hungry. Don't fear."_

Vlad grasped at cloth before him, clenching it tightly in his fists. Or were they someone else's fists? He was dead. Maybe this was hell. Something dripped over his lips, sliding into his parched mouth. Dracula had not even realized how thirsty he was until the liquid moistened his tongue.

Thirst he had never known in his lifetime tore at him. His body screamed for it. A sweet aftertaste was left in his mouth, hardly worthy of anything but a trigger for the terrible thirst. Opening his mouth, Dracula gasped again, the choked sound of his voice lacing his heavy breaths.

"_Drink,_" The voice pressed at him like a tangible thing. The arms around him tightened. Dracula groaned, opening his mouth wide and closing his lips around the source of the sweet liquid.

He began sucking as a starving man would. He still breathed heavily through his nose, but the liquid that flowed down his throat was easing the thirst. Vlad did not know how long he drank, but when he opened his eyes, the shock of what he was doing hit him. He was nursing from a demon.

It was a beautiful beast, at least to his eyes, with golden curls rolling down its face and tickling his nose. It appeared in all reality to be a woman, but it had vicious red eyes, and teeth like a hunting cat. Dracula pulled his head back from her bared breast, surprising himself with a wolfish growl rumbling from what he swore was his own lips.

"_Ahh, the sounds of a healthy new beast._"

The voice didn't come from her lips, but her smile never faded. He wasn't sure if she owned the voice, but she did bare a striking resemblance to the child that had visited him. She reached out, catching his chin and rubbing the side of his face with her thumb. Dracula could not fail to notice the sharpened nails decorating the ends of her fingers, though found he could not pull away from her.

She held a beauty, which made him gasp, and his growl instantly quieted at her touch, as if she were controlling his actions more than he. Dracula tilted his head into her hand, never letting his eyes leave hers. Her smile widened, and she moved her hand back along the side of his face, cupping the back of his head. She pulled his head forward, back to her breast.

Dracula lowered his eyes to the exposed flesh, narrowing them sharply when he noticed the sweet liquid was as red as blood.

"Demon," he managed through his heavy breaths.

"_Shh. Drink,"_ the voice pressed.

Vlad closed his eyes, giving in to the demons' and the voice's gentle coxing. He had never felt so safe as he did this moment. Not even with his father. Though, family seemed to mean little to his family. A father that used he and his brother as bargaining tools. And a brother that took a good fuck as payment for undying loyalty. They all called him insane. Perhaps they were the insane ones.

He thought his thirst would never go unquenched. It seemed hours that he drank, but soon, he felt his stomach swell and his throat tighten. The thirst was gone, and he felt…powerful. Dracula looked up to the demon, noting the smile upon her face, though he said nothing.

"You certainly have an appetite," she whispered, running a hand over the top of his head, catching the snags in his hair and gently working them out.

"Kiss me," she demanded, her voice losing some of its sweetness, and becoming much more stern.

Vlad smirked, knowing the tales of demons and their lust for seduction. Nevertheless, he arched up, softly catching her lips in his. Her taste was bitter, and instantly repulsed, he tried to pull away. The demon would not so easily relinquish him. Her arms tightened, becoming nothing of the safe haven they had been only moments ago, but bonds that held him against his will. Strangely, Dracula felt a second and third pair of arms forcefully securing him against her.

He struggled, but she would not relinquish her kiss. Her taste became more bitter and gut wrenching as she worked his lips apart, seeking to gain entrance into his mouth. With every fiber of his newfound strength he denied her thus, but she seemed on a mission at this point.

A sharp pain stabbed into his back, directly between his shoulder blades. Dracula cried out, opening his mouth to her in the process. He could feel blood run down his back and soak the fabric of his clothing. His ears filled with his own muffled anger as she explored his mouth. He tried to bite down, but it felt as if his jaws were locked open.

"_Such a fuss"_

'Damn you!' He wanted to scream to the voice. 'Get this thing off me! This was not part of our bargain!' He could not form the words, as his mouth was occupied, but it seemed the voice was able to hear his thoughts.

It laughed at him. The God damned thing laughed!

"_Obedience."_

The word spoke volumes to him. It was what he had relinquished to the child, to the demon for the price of power and eternal life. Dracula relaxed, letting the demon do as she wished, though felt as if he would soon lose his stomach.

The demon finally pulled back, just long enough to bite into his bottom lip. The feral growl from before rumbled in his chest. His breathing slowed, though he found it odd to have to concentrate on the task of working his lungs.

"You are not among the living, my prince. There is no use for the air to circulate in your body." The demon smiled to him. Her arms released him, and he instantly rolled away from her, but found his movements much different than they had been just a day ago. Everything seemed jerky, as if he couldn't get his muscles to work in a fluid motion. Because of this, Dracula found he could not stand, but rather clawed at the floor in an effort to gain control over his limbs.

The demon sat before him, leaning against the wall and toying with a lock of curls between her fingers. A chime like giggle signaled her amusement at the sight, and he instantly stopped moving. Dracula abhorred being laughed at.

"Poor Voievod," she purred, leaning forward and stretching an arm out to him. He tried to draw away, narrowing his eyes at her. A dainty finger brushed his forehead, and his body went rigid.

"I told you there is no need for air. Why do you continue to gasp?"

He had not realized he had been, but now it became clear. He was terrified of suffocation, and the thought that his lungs were not working properly was hell to him. The finger upon his forehead paralyzed him somehow. It was as if he were frozen, unable to move even his eyes.

"My poor Vlad. Such a healthy beast, and yet all wrong." She seemed to be chiding herself, as if he were a project, an experiment, and something in his formula was a mistake. It made his blood boil.

She released him, pulling her arm back and draping it over her knee.

"Your brother was not kind to you after death. Did not even give you the grace of proper entombment. He just threw you in here like a commoner."

"What?" Dracula frowned, finally turning to look about him at his surroundings. Indeed, they were within the family tomb. Lining the walls were the coffins of his many ancestors.

"Ahh, I see. You don't quite realize it yet. My dear Tsepesh, you're dead."

The memory of the fight with his brother had eluded him until now, and he lie upon the stone floor, stunned by the realization.

"Do stop breathing, it's becoming annoying."

Dracula frowned, cutting his concentration on his lungs as he raised an arm, pressing his palm over his heart. With out the movement of his lungs, there was no life in his body. His heart was still.

Hands slid under his shoulders, pulling him up and back by his upper arms. Vlad narrowed his eyes, recognizing the daintily clawed fingers of the woman. How was she moving so silently? He'd heard not a sound at all. She helped him sit against the wall, and smiled, running a finger over the ragged edges of the cut in his armor, his death wound.

"I was impressed with your death. Normally those that make deals with us choose not to face death, wanting to jump between life and death without pain or fear. I like you. You're not afraid of mystery. Indeed, He is impressed as well. Your father is well pleased."

"What I fear is of no consequence," Dracula growled to her. "What am I? My father? My father is long dead."

She laughed again. This was becoming very annoying.

"Where is your master? The one I made the deal with? I want to speak to him!" Dracula's voice was firm, commanding, and very agitated. This demon was playing with him, amusing herself at his expense.

Again she laughed, standing. Her bright blonde hair falling in thick curls well to her knees, hiding every part of her in a veil but for her face and chest.

_You can always speak with me, for I am with you._

Dracula froze, rigid as the chilling voice echoed through his mind as it always had. There seemed something so different with it now. Perhaps because it had him, there was no turning away from the path he had chosen

"Let me see you," he answered, not sure if he should think the words or speak them aloud. Dracula let his eyes fall upon the demon as she turned to move in a seductive motion across the tomb, looking into the open caskets and running her fingers over the writing on the tomb wall. Each line of script displayed the name of an ancestor.

_ Succubus,_ the voice declared as the child suddenly appeared before him.

Dracula felt himself relax suddenly, as if the voice, this being, forced an assurance and calmness over him. It did not escape his notice, but he was glad for it. A calmer mind could think much easier.

_She is very different from you, but she is the closest earthly creature to what you have become. I would not let my son stay alone on his first nights reborn. _

Vlad shook his head as he listened, his eyes narrowing at the child. "What am I? I am dead. How can I be as I am and dead?" The wolfish growl returned as he watched a smile spread over the child's face. "You are not my father."

The pressure in the tomb shifted as the child reached out, cupping the side of Dracula's face in a tiny hand. _Ahh, but you are my son. I have created you, taking your mortal form and changed you. What you have become now is beyond what any mortal could dream. You are, like the succubus, an earthly demon, my son. _


End file.
